Broken Arrow  Quality Time
by Rose Malmaison
Summary: Gibbs helps Tony cope with his father's visit. Based on season 8 episode Broken Arrow. Existing slash relationship, h/c, romance, angst. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Broken Arrow - Quality Time  
by rose_malmaison

Rating: FRM  
Genre: Slash  
Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
Warnings: language, sex  
Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters for further exploration.  
Spoilers: 8x7 Broken Arrow  
Summary: Gibbs helps Tony recover from his father's visit.

Length: 9000 words, 3 chapters, complete

A/N: I appreciate feedback, comments and critiques.

**Chapter 1**

Gibbs was surprised when he arrived home to find his house dark. Tony should have been home long since. That afternoon Gibbs had ordered his team to leave work as soon as they tied up the loose ends in the Royce case. Vance had required his presence in MTAC and Gibbs had known he'd be occupied with Admiral Chase and his cronies at the Pentagon for hours, so he'd left his agents to dot the i's and cross the t's.

He could only hope Tony had gone to talk things out with his friends after work, and was not driving around aimlessly in an attempt to get his head straight. His lead agent had been off his game the entire time his father had been visiting, though he had pulled himself together when he was on the job. Now Senior DiNozzo was gone, Tony would regain his equilibrium. It might take some time, but Tony always bounced back.

Gibbs knew he shouldn't be so anxious - Tony was a grown man and a gun-bearing federal agent, after all - but he worried about him nonetheless. If you loved someone, you were concerned about his wellbeing, and as far as love went, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had it bad.

***–***

When Tony returned to NCIS early that afternoon, after taking his father to the airport, he barely nodded in Gibbs' direction. Ignoring the openly curious looks his teammates were sending his way, he buckled down to deal with his share of the case paperwork. Tony's agitated behavior appeared to have dissipated as soon as his father departed DC, but with Tony being too quiet was also a cause for concern.

They hadn't had a chance to talk this out yet. After the case was wrapped up last night, they had wearily made their way home around 0300, too zonked out to do more than fall into bed and sleep.

This morning Gibbs had headed in to work early and Tony had gone directly to the Adams House Hotel to pick up his father and then brought him to NCIS to say good-bye to 'the girls,' as Senior called them. The way Ziva and Abby had been fawning over DiNozzo Sr., and the way the older man had preened in response to the feminine attention had set Gibbs on edge. Even now, just thinking about it caused his blood to boil. The grinding of his teeth could probably be heard over in the next bullpen.

Gibbs was about to take Tony aside, just to make sure he was all right, when a call came in from Vance, summoning him to MTAC. On his way up, he stopped in front of Tony's desk. Tony's head was lowered in concentration as he compared a nautical chart with intel on his computer. Gibbs observed fondly that several strands of hair on the back of Tony's head had escaped being tamed by his hair gel. He made a slight noise in the back of his throat and the younger man looked up, apparently surprised to see his boss standing there. "Boss?"

"Everything go okay?" Gibbs could feel Ziva's eyes boring into his back like a red laser dot emanating from a rifle's scope. At least Tim, working diligently on his computer, had the courtesy to pretend he wasn't listening in on their conversation.

Tony's eyes flitted in the direction of his teammates and then back to Gibbs. "Uh, yeah. Fine. Got Dad to Reagan and to the President's Club Lounge. He took it from there, was right at home. He is now The Donald's new best friend." Tony gave a small, tight smile. "Everything's fine. We even had what might be construed as a conversation, which, you'll agree if you know anything at all about the DiNozzos, is a minor miracle." Gibbs nodded but didn't move away from the desk so Tony raised his eyebrows and asked, "Something on your mind, Boss?"

Damn right there was something on his mind, but this was not the time or place to get into it. Gibbs was barely able to contain his irritation with Anthony DiNozzo Sr. and all the turmoil that followed in the bastard's wake. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned over, close enough to speak privately in Tony's ear. "We _will_ talk later." Tony stared blankly at Gibbs as if he didn't have any idea what they had to talk about.

Gibbs bit back a response to Tony's clueless look. He knew Tony was pretending that everything was back to normal. Hell, he'd probably convinced himself that a few choice words from his father erased years of wrong. Gibbs, for one, would never forgive Senior for all the damage he'd bestowed upon his only child over the years, and he sure as hell wasn't about to let Tony delude himself that anything about their relationship was normal, or that it was ever likely to be so.

What Gibbs really wanted to say was not appropriate for such a public place, so he strode off towards MTAC, scowling. Any NCIS personnel who crossed Gibbs' path moved quickly out of his way.

As he made his way up the open staircase, Gibbs heard Ziva commenting, too casually, "Senior proved himself to be handy, did he not?" She smiled fondly at the memory of the man. "He is so suave, so confident."

McGee responded, "At least _my_ Dad knows enough to keep his hands to himself. He wouldn't grope an agent undercover."

Ziva looked Tim up and down as if she found him wanting. "Like father like son, McGee? Tony is not so much like his father, is he?"

Reaching the balcony, Gibbs looked down to see Tony still hunched over his computer, apparently not taking the bait his teammates were dangling so temptingly. Once Tony got home he was likely to release the emotions he was bottling up. All Gibbs could do when Tony crashed was be there for him and help him as best he could. He might not be great in the talking department but one thing Gibbs was good at was providing a strong shoulder to lean upon.

***–***

It was late when Gibbs arrived home. An hour later and there was still no sign of Tony, which concerned Gibbs more than he would like to admit. When he couldn't stand it any longer he called Tony's cell, feeling like an woman checking up on her husband.

Tony picked up on the first ring. "Hey."

"You okay?"

"I'm in the car. Won't be long."

After a too-long silence when Gibbs waited in vain for more information, he said, "I'll make us some dinner then."

More silence and then Tony said, sounding far away, "Be there in twenty."

***–***

He decided that a good hot meal and some booze would help ease the situation a little, once Tony turned up. Gibbs started dinner and it wasn't much later when the front door opened and closed quietly, signaling that Tony was finally home.

Gibbs didn't turn away from stirring the stew he'd thrown together from the ingredients he found in the cupboard and fridge. "I opened some red wine," he called casually over his shoulder when he heard Tony walk into the kitchen behind him. But when Tony didn't say anything and didn't approach, Gibbs turned his head to see how bad it was. Yup, it was bad all right. Still wearing his overcoat, Tony stood there, obviously drained both mentally and physically. His shoulders were slumped, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, but it was the lost and uncertain look on his face that got to Gibbs.

Things had been tough on both of them the past couple of days, what with Tony getting so bent out of shape due to his father's presence. He'd been on edge in a way that Gibbs had never seen before. The first night that DiNozzo Sr. had been in DC, Gibbs had lectured a jittery Tony about how he needed to calm down and to stop letting his old man jerk him around. In retrospect Gibbs knew that he'd been too harsh with Tony, but Senior had cancelled dinner with his son and Tony had not reacted well, which pissed Gibbs off even more.

_"Shit, Gibbs! He left me a lame excuse on my voicemail! How the hell am I supposed to meet him halfway when he never even shows up? I'm not letting him jerk me around - he just does it out of habit. Always has. He never changes, Jethro. Never will! Damn it!"_

Tony wouldn't talk to Gibbs that night and he'd made it clear he wanted to be left alone. He stayed in front of the TV, and was still watching old movies when Gibbs had emerged from the basement near midnight, where he'd been working on his boat.

Gibbs had tried to entice Tony to come to bed, but he'd been rebuffed, which wasn't like Tony at all. Gibbs could deal with a worried Tony, an anxious Tony, and even a scared Tony, but a cool Tony who wouldn't respond? Who didn't want to be touched? Fixing the problem was beyond Gibbs' limited communication skills. So he'd gone to bed but hadn't been able to get any rest. It was hours later that Tony had come up, crawled under the covers and curled up way over on his own side.

"Tony," Gibbs had said. "Don't do this."

The barely audible response, "Leave me alone…just…please," was just about enough to break Gibbs' heart.

***–***

They'd gone to work the next morning in separate cars, Tony looking tired, still aloof. Later they had kept busy with the case and arranging entry into the summit reception at the Royce mansion. The mission was a success and they wrapped it up without anyone getting hurt. There had been some tense moments when DiNozzo Senior and Ziva had taken Royce's two men down in the foyer, but Gibbs felt his team had done a good job and he was proud of them. He said so with a look, if not any actual words.

The head count of arms dealers caught in their net was a significant coup and even Vance was inordinately pleased. Gibbs thought that being able to stick it to Admiral Chase had a good deal to do with Vance's good humor that night.

***–***

Now it was over, DiNozzo Sr. was gone, and Tony stood in the middle of their kitchen looking like he was lost. Gibbs held out one arm, beckoning. "Come here," he said gently.

Tony didn't need any more of an invitation. He took the few steps to Gibbs's side and melted into his arms, leaning his solid weight into him and burying his face in his shoulder. Gibbs rubbed Tony's back with both hands, using long, comforting strokes. Tony's breath was hot on Gibbs' neck, his body still and lax, content to merely be held. Eventually Gibbs asked gently, "You okay?" He felt as though he'd asked that a dozen times over the past few days, the answer usually being an unconvincing 'yes'.

This time Tony mumbled, "No." But he quickly followed that up with a laugh, the sound muffled in Gibbs' shoulder. "Man, I'm being a girl. Two days in his company and I'm a mess." After a minute Tony said quietly, "I'm sorry. Sorry about giving you the cold shoulder, Jethro. I didn't…I just couldn't…"

Gibbs kissed Tony's temple since his lover wouldn't raise his face from where it was buried in his shoulder, forgiving him for rebuffing the offer of a helping hand. After a few more minutes of enveloping him tenderly in his strong arms, Gibbs patted Tony's rear end to indicate he should get a move on. "C'mon. Get cleaned up. Dinner'll be ready when you come back." He waited until Tony stepped back a bit, and watched his expression carefully. Tony seemed a little more collected but Gibbs asked anyway, "Better?"

"Yeah." Tony ran a hand over his face and looked around as if he was wondering what he was doing there, standing in the middle of the kitchen. He took a deep breath, sighed out, and made an attempt at a smile in Gibbs' direction. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "I won't be long."

***–***

Tony looked better when he returned and sat down to eat. He appeared weary but not quite so adrift. His hair was damp and he'd changed into comfortable clothes, a sweater and old jeans. But there, half-hidden behind his smile he harbored a look that suggested someone had let him down badly.

Gibbs wasn't about to push. Not yet. It would all come out in time, probably when they were sitting close to each other on the couch, or perhaps later when they were lying together in bed. One thing was certain, Gibbs refused to allow DiNozzo Sr., and all the baggage that came with the man, entry into their bedroom. If Tony didn't start the ball rolling soon and get whatever was bothering him out in the open, Gibbs was going to have to prompt him.

They'd eaten most of their dinner before Tony said anything. He had pulled himself together, enough to appear back to normal, though Gibbs knew he was far from all right.

Tony asked conversationally, "You spent all afternoon with Vance?" He offered his boss a sympathetic look.

With a grunt, Gibbs acknowledged, "MTAC and then in conference with Admiral Chase at the Pentagon. They're practiced at covering their asses." He rose smoothly, went to the fridge and pulled out a cold beer. He raised a second bottle of beer but Tony shook his head and instead refilled his wine glass. Seated once again at the table, Gibbs asked, "You?"

Tony pushed the remains of his dinner around on the plate then dropped his fork. It clattered noisily in the quiet kitchen. He studied his plate for a minute and then took a deep breath. "I finished the paperwork and got the case reports together, got everything electronically filed. The usual. Oh, and I printed an extra copy of everything and sent it up to Vance."

Gibbs grunted. Vance could print it up himself, or have his assistant do it, but he preferred a tangible printout, signed by the agent in charge, delivered right into his hand. Vance called it keeping his finger on the pulse of NCIS but Gibbs knew it was his way of ensuring the people in the bullpen remembered who was in charge.

"I had a word with Ziva," Tony said, his voice deepening with displeasure. "About not taking immediate action when given an order." His mouth tensed. "I told her I'd write her up if she ever does it again."

Gibbs nodded, well aware of what had occurred. To be fair, when Tony had first ordered Ziva to get his father out of the house, afraid for his old man's safety, she had believed it was still necessary to plant the bug. It irked Gibbs that Ziva had been slow to obey Tony's direct order yet she'd jumped when his name was invoked. He was also ticked off that they hadn't caught all of the arms dealers in the ensuing raid. "We know yet how the Turk identified her?"

Tony shook his head. "No, she didn't know him by sight and now Bayar has gone to ground. I've given her orders to work with McGee on tracking him tomorrow." He shrugged. "She's eager to get on the job."

Gibbs and Abby had reviewed the video of the undercover op from Ziva's camera. Abby had been able to read Bayar's lips well enough to cause them to wonder how the man knew so much about Ziva. "I read his jacket. He's going to be slippery. They can work on it but just until we catch another case." Gibbs didn't want to talk about work, or about Ziva, so he turned the conversation in the right direction. "Where'd you go after work?" He hadn't meant to let concern creep into his voice but from Tony's expression apparently it had.

Tony sat back and eyed him, a slight smile revealing he liked that Gibbs worried about him. "I had cocktails with Abby and Tim, and then Abby took me back to her place to talk." Tony shifted in his chair and fiddled with the stem of his wine glass. "Abby seems to think that my piss-poor relationship with my father is somehow my fault. I'm well aware that I'm part of the problem but she kept on at me about how I was being too judgmental, and how I should get closer to him…that I should forgive him. Apparently she has issues because she missed an opportunity to forgive her own father before he died."

Gibbs didn't respond directly about Abby; he knew about her father but wasn't about to discuss it with anyone, not even with Tony. "You have your reasons, Tony, and you don't need to explain them to anybody." He looked Tony in the eye and said carefully, "I've never seen you on that kind of roller coaster before. I've been worried."

"I know I was acting like a nervous junkie, Boss, but you gotta understand how…Look, he just gets to me, okay? It's impossible to ignore all the problems, the shit we've had between us for…for how long now? For thirty fucking years! I'm doing my best, I really am. I think he's trying, too, but I know he'll never change, no matter what he says." Tony ran his fingers through his hair with a near-vicious swipe. "Damn it, when he walks in the room it's like I'm ten again. Something comes over me and I hate it."

"I understand, Tony." Gibbs placed his hand over Tony's and gently rubbed his thumb across his knuckles. "Not easy to be an adult when your parent's treating you like a kid." His relationship with his own father had only improved once he'd faced that they'd both made mistakes and it was time to get over it. Remaining angry after all these years wasn't doing either of them any good. Gibbs was fond of his dad, and vice versa, even if he and Jack rubbed the other the wrong way more often than not. "They always have power over you in some form or other, Tony. You just have to find a way to deal with it."

~~~end chapter 1~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Spoilers for season 8x07 Broken Arrow, as you can tell by the title. Slash, Gibbs/DiNozzo.

Broken Arrow - Quality Time

Chapter 2

He knew how important it was for Tony to get it all out, so with a slight nod Gibbs encouraged him to continue. "You talk to your dad when you took him to the airport?"

"Yeah. Before we left we had a sit-down in his hotel room." Tony drank the remains of his wine but didn't reach for a refill. He took a deep breath and launched into what had happened. "So I'm trying to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on with his money problems, because I'm sure if he gets desperate enough he'll be into something shady."

Tony said dispiritedly, "He sort of admitted he was broke and said it wasn't the first time. I said I wished we could turn back time, like a movie reel, you know? Just rewind it and start all over again. Do things right this time around. And then Dad brings an old photo out of his wallet, one I've never even seen before, of him and me out at Crystal Lake." Tony gave a self-deprecating laugh. "That threw me for a loop. I was all of ten years old, wearing a striped t-shirt I _know_ I would never be seen dead in. And there he was, holding up a huge fish he'd caught, grinning like it was his greatest achievement. I'm standing by his side, trying my damndest to be the best little fisherman there ever was, even though he wouldn't let me use his fishing rod because it cost a lot of money and little kids shouldn't handle Dad's stuff because they'll break it like always and…" Tony's words petered out and he stared at his empty wine glass.

Gibbs squeezed Tony's hand and the younger man attempted a smile in response. "It was good family vacation, Jethro. I know it was." Tony sounded as if trying to convince himself. "I remember the cabin, and having a cookout with the sparks flying into the dark sky, and I remember the boat - it was red - and swimming in the lake. It had to have been good if I remember all that, right?"

Gibbs didn't know what to say, so he clung to Tony's hand and waited for him to get it all out.

"Dad says he looks at that photo every morning, at him and the big fish…and me, and he promised we'd talk more often. He wouldn't say something like that if he didn't mean it, would he?"

Although he told himself not to say anything negative, no matter what he thought, Gibbs couldn't let Tony set himself up for another fall. "Don't set your heart on anything, Tony. Take it slow. You're a good judge of character. Just use your instincts."

Tony nodded. "Okay. I'll be careful. At first, when I looked at that photo I wondered where Mom was." He stopped abruptly and shook his head a little. His voice was thick with emotion when he said, "Then I remembered. She was always carrying a camera around, an old Voigtlander in a leather case that her dad gave her; she was constantly telling us to smile." Tony smiled a little at the memory. "Mom wasn't in the picture because she took it. She wasn't in _any_ of our family photos. I have a few of them in my lockbox upstairs but the only photo of her is from their wedding, and she's so small in it I can hardly see her face." Tony said in a small voice, "She died soon after our vacation at the lake." His chin quivered and then he ran his sleeve angrily across his eyes. "Damn, I don't know what's wrong with me the last couple of days, all up and down."

Gibbs moved his chair closer. He put a protective arm around Tony's shoulders and ran his thumb back and forth across the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Tony leaned into him, his head down.

After a few minutes Gibbs said, "C'mon, let's go in the living room." He stood and urged Tony to rise along with him. With an arm still around Tony's shoulders he walked him into the next room and over to the comfortable couch. They sank down together and Tony immediately curled into Gibbs, one arm across his stomach, holding him tight. Gibbs rubbed Tony's arm and then stroked his hair, soothing him with every gesture. Eventually he asked, "Are you and Abby okay now?"

Tony nodded wearily. "Yeah, we're fine. I told her Dad and I were talking. She understood." After a while he said, "When I got Dad to the airport I managed to swing it so he got into the President's Club Lounge. I knew the security guy." He gave a huff of a laugh. "Damned if Trump was not only waiting for his jet to fuel up, but he was schmoozing with Heinrich Holdst."

It took Gibbs a few seconds to recall who Heinrich Holdst was. "The president of the World Bank?"

"Oh yeah, and Senior slid on over and started to charm both of them, just like a snake-oil salesman." Tony glanced up at Gibbs. "Dad told me you accused him of being a con man." Gibbs stiffened so Tony quickly said, "I think he was sort of flattered. Really. I picture him as Burt Lancaster in _The Rainmaker_, but much better dressed. He thinks he's more like Paul Newman in _The Sting_, or Cary Grant in _To Catch a Thief_." Tony raised his head to smile at Gibbs. "After all, he _is_ a con man, finagling NCIS to pay for his cashmere tuxedo, all because he was invited to a party thrown by a comatose billionaire."

Gibbs shrugged even though one corner of his mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "Hey, the director okayed it. He fell for the con, not me."

"You know, my father says he's starting to like you, Jethro," Tony said cautiously, frowning as if it something he couldn't wrap his mind around.

"Huh." Gibbs didn't like Tony's father now any more than the first time he'd met him. Senior was a selfish bastard who left others to pick up his check. Gibbs had always wondered if the man had somehow engineered his son into paying his bill the last time he'd stayed at the Adams House. He'd hesitated just long enough over paying his enormous hotel bill for Tony to pick up the tab. Senior knew Tony wouldn't want to be embarrassed by having his old man marked as a deadbeat. Tony, being a good man, and a good son, had stepped up to the plate on that occasion.

Gibbs despised the elder DiNozzo for everything he suspected the man had done, and he especially hated the way the man treated Tony. Even more, Gibbs hated Tony's knee-jerk reaction to his father's every manipulative move. Actions did, indeed, speak louder than the words none of them said aloud.

"I don't expect you to like him, Jethro. In fact it would be really weird if you did. I picture you two duking it out someday - Godzilla versus Megalon. Superman against Mannheim. Armani versus Sears?"

"How I feel about him is irrelevant," Gibbs said. Tony moved out of his arms to sit upright. Gibbs was afraid he'd said the wrong thing but to his surprise Tony looked sheepish.

"Do you think, maybe, you could tolerate him?"

For Tony…for Tony he'd try.

Tony read Gibbs' expression, seemed satisfied and said, "I have something to tell you, to ask you…"

Gibbs braced himself, knowing he wasn't going to like whatever it was.

"Dad sort of said…well…he might be coming here for Thanksgiving."

Gibbs grew rigid. "Here?" Shit. He hoped his horror wasn't showing on his face.

"Well, he isn't sleeping _here_. I told him he can't stay at my place." A quick look at Gibbs and Tony amended, "At _our_ place."

It was a couple of seconds before Gibbs blurted, "We are _not_ footing a hotel bill for your father, Tony! He can afford to stay at the Super 8."

Wrapping his arms around Gibbs once again, Tony smiled into his chest. "Won't have to. I made it crystal clear he's on his own as far as accommodations go. We can do Thanksgiving dinner here, though, can't we? Maybe ask your dad to join us? As a buffer."

He snorted. "Jack? A buffer? Are you looking for trouble, Tony?"

"It could be interesting. We could take bets on who comes gets the breast meat. Besides, Dad's got a bed lined up with a woman already."

Gibbs asked with a frown, "Who with? Not with Ziva?"

"I think he's making arrangements with that woman he met at the party…Julie Merriweather. The one with the Beltway PR firm. They hit it off and she invited him to stay with her next time he's in DC."

Gibbs chuckled and asked, "The woman McGee thinks will be your next step-mother?"

"Very funny." Tony shook his head and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Jethro's warm chest under his cheek. He sighed contentedly but then, a few seconds later he opened his eyes again and sat up so he could see Jethro's face clearly. "Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'Not with Ziva?'"

Gibbs avoided Tony's eyes until he got a poke in his ribs and a repeat of the question. Tony asked suspiciously, "What are you saying about Dad and Ziva? He asked me earlier if I had a thing going on with her, outside of work."

"A thing?" Gibbs gave Tony a ten-second glare. He hoped he wouldn't have to explain himself, but he had become aware that Tony was almost immune to his don't-even-go-there look, the one that made most people quake in their boots. Finally Gibbs caved. "Oh hell! Look, when I went to the Adams House to talk to him the night he arrived-."

"You went to talk to my father?" Tony stared at Jethro with a combination of betrayal and incredulity in his green eyes.

"After he left you that shitty message about how he was too tired to see you," Gibbs said, his low opinion of Senior apparent.

Partially mollified, Tony said with a frown, "All right, what did you say to him, Jethro?"

"I was gauging his reliability for the operation, Tony. I, uh, questioned his honesty." Gibbs said defensively, "We were trusting him to get an agent into place. I wasn't gonna send any of our people in without looking him in the eye and…and then I had a little look around." Tony was staring at him with narrowed eyes like he was trying to figure something out and Gibbs knew the flush climbing his neck wasn't helping his case any. "Okay, I didn't like the way he treated you and I went to harass him," Gibbs confessed.

"That's sweet, Jethro," Tony said with a pleased smile. He grew serious and asked, "There's more to this, isn't there?" He studied Gibbs for a moment longer and then another, knowing smile formed. "Oh…oh, I see. Yeah, I get it now. You caught him with a woman in his room. Of course, the old DiNozzo dog. Who was it? That hot masseuse Helga? That frosty little blond gal from the front desk? The Adams does boast great room service." Tony wiggled his eyebrows and ran his hand down to squeeze Jethro's cock through his pants.

Gibbs groaned. "Jesus, Tony. I thought you were too tired. If you want to play room service then let's take this upstairs."

But Tony pressed his free hand to Jethro's chest and held him in place. "Oh no, you haven't told me what you saw in Dad's room. C'mon, give. There must have been some telltale clues left around." He squeezed Jethro's cock again and it grew hard under the rough treatment. "I can see I'll have to interrogate you," he said playfully. "Hot wax will make you scream." He licked from the base of Jethro's neck up to behind his ear then began to suck on his earlobe. Gibbs squirmed and looked hopefully towards the stairs but Tony wasn't about to let him off the couch without an answer. "Tell me what happened, Gibbs. Sit-rep."

"All right, all right." Gibbs sighed and rolled his eyes. "Your dad was coming back from the spa just as I was knocking on the door. We entered his suite, talked for a few minutes. He told me he was broke and I told him to stop playing games and to just tell you the truth. I looked around and saw there was a table set for one. He'd eaten the caviar and an appetizer but hadn't touched the lobster tail. It looked like he might have been interrupted." Gibbs paused but Tony was waiting patiently, with eyebrows slightly raised, for him to get to the meat of the story. "He offered me champagne," Gibbs said.

"How many glasses had been used?"

"Two, but only one - his - had been used."

"Continue." Tony was working hard to refrain from grinning.

Gibbs could see how much this was amusing his lover and he tried, in vain, not to smile in response. At least Tony's mind was busy doing something other than worrying that his old man would embarrass him in front of his co-workers or, worse yet, get himself killed while playing secret agent for the NCIS. Gibbs continued, "The bedroom door was slightly open. No movement but…I could smell perfume. I didn't place the smell until last night after we wrapped up at the Royce mansion, when I caught a whiff of it again."

Tony held up a hand. "Wait, don't tell me. Clive Christian perfume at $2000 an ounce? Meredith was doused in it. Sandalwood, Tahitian vanilla, smells like money?"

Scoffing at the folly of people with expensive tastes, his own lover notwithstanding, Gibbs said, "No. More exotic. Musk and incense. Like a bazaar in Aqaba."

Tony sat up straight. "That's what Ziva wears. She _was_ with my Dad in his hotel!"

Gibbs offered what he hoped was an apologetic expression. "I smelled that same perfume on her when she brought in Gaston and Mayfield last night."

After a long pause, Tony looked Gibbs in the eye and said dismissively, "Hell, who cares? I don't care about Ziva or Senior or expensive perfume. The only smells I like are the ones that come from you, Jethro. Coffee and sweat and that lemon soap of mine you use even though you pretend you prefer Tom's of Maine." Tony hugged Gibbs and offered his mouth for a kiss. Within seconds neither men had any thoughts of women, or of fathers, or of the past few days.

Gibbs kissed Tony long and deep, his heart quickening at how quickly Tony relaxed in his arms. The younger man made small sounds of enjoyment, his mouth opening, tongue reciprocating, playing, lips and teeth teasing in response to Jethro's kisses. Gibbs loved that Tony often started out with his eyes open but that his eyelids soon closed when he became overwhelmed by the sensation of their lovemaking. It was easy to arouse Tony, and in return Gibbs found it oh-so-easy to fall under the younger man's spell.

***–*** end chapter 2 ***–***


	3. Chapter 3

Spoilers for season 8x07 Broken Arrow. This story contains slash scenes between Tony and Gibbs though there's nothing graphic. Some language, too.

Chapter 3

He didn't know how he was going to convince Tony to shift his weight off the couch and move up to their bedroom. If Tony fell deeply asleep it was going to be difficult to rouse him. The couch was comfortable, and he was warm and content with Tony lying half on top of him, but Gibbs wanted to finish this off properly, which meant in his own bed. "We gotta move."

Tony didn't budge. Instead he mumbled into Gibbs' chest, "Jethro?"

"Mmm?"

"You sure we're okay with inviting Dad for Thanksgiving? Chances are he'll cancel anyway."

Gibbs opened his eyes, knowing they had to get the rest of the talk out of the damned way. "If you want. I guess he'll figure out that we're…uh…" Gibbs still had trouble saying words like 'we're a couple' and 'in a committed relationship'. "That we're shacked up."

"Oh, well, I sorta forgot to mention…"

"What?" Gibbs' stomach flipped over. "What did you do?"

Tony melded his length to Jethro and rubbed his body back and forth in an attempt to distract, until a pair of strong hands stilled him.

"Hey! Tell me, Tony."

Tony gazed up at him with guilty eyes. "Dad knows. About me being gay."

***–***

They were stuck in heavy traffic but a glance at his watch informed Tony they still had plenty of time to get to the airport. He was about to assure his father that he could help smooth his way through security in order to get him to Trump's side in time, when Senior turned his head and sent him an indecipherable look.

"Junior…about Ziva."

Tony quickly cut him off, not wanting to be questioned, once again, about his relationship with the Israeli woman. "I'm not interested in her, okay? We work together and I don't date co-workers." Desperate to nip this in the bud, he said forcefully, "It's a rule."

The expression on Senior's face was a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. "A rule? Who makes up that kind of rule?"

Of course he wouldn't know about Gibbs' rules and DiNozzo Senior's rule of thumb was _to_ sleep with associates in order to get ahead. Tony wasn't one to cite rules as being gospel, particularly as he'd been breaking number twelve with his own boss for two years now, but in this case he wasn't above using them for his own purpose. "Gibbs has these rules. Over fifty of them." To make it sound official he added, "It's a Marine thing."

"That doesn't prevent you from being interested in her," Senior pressed. He smiled as if at a particularly pleasant memory. "A girl like her, dangerous and exotic. A sexy combination with those dark eyes, those lush hips-."

Tony halted the flow of descriptive words before his father launched into something he really didn't want to hear. "Okay, stop right there! I am not interested, Dad. I'm already going out with someone." Now he'd blurted it out, Tony flinched, waiting for the repercussions.

Senior leveled his gaze on his son. "Doesn't mean you can't play the field a little. If I had those lovely ladies under my nose every day at work -."

"No! I'm not interested, Dad, because I'm…I'm in a committed relationship." There, he'd said it. He'd used that phrase that Jethro couldn't bear to say unless forced to, and then only with a pained look.

Senior frowned at his son and even shifted in his seat so he could have a clear view of Tony's face. "You're serious." He sounded bewildered.

Tony nodded and changed lanes, edging nearer to the airport and hopefully closer to the end of what was fast becoming a dangerous father-and-son conversation. It was only the second such talk he could remember them ever having. Both in one day, too. A DiNozzo family record that would surely go down in the history books.

He could feel his dad's eyes on him. The unrelenting scrutiny caused a slight flush to work its way up Tony's neck until his cheeks grew warm. Little beads of perspiration formed on his brow. Desperate, he thought of Gibbs and wondered how he would handle this conversation. Not well, that's for sure. Tony couldn't help smiling a little at the image of Gibbs and Dad stuck in a traffic jam together. Gibbs would be all tight lips and glaring blue eyes; Senior would raise an eyebrow and say something cutting with an air of superiority about it.

Senior sized Tony up, a slight frown causing small lines between his brows. "How long has this…this relationship been going on?"

"Two years," Tony said, his voice surprisingly even. He'd never told this to anyone before, had never outed himself - or _them_ - as a couple. It wasn't as if he wasn't proud of being with Gibbs. He was, with a depth that defied description. He loved the man more than he'd thought was possible. There were times he ached for Gibbs so badly it hurt physically. Tony knew he owed him everything…without Gibbs he'd be nothing, and the most amazing thing was that Gibbs loved him back. Truly, deeply loved him. And that made Tony the luckiest man on earth.

Gibbs had so far refused to tell anyone about their relationship. If they figured it out, fine. Otherwise it was nobody's business, he said. End of story. Tony might not agree with the choice but he honored Gibbs' request to keep it private.

There were times, when they were out together, that Tony wanted everybody to know that the handsome silver-haired man standing beside him belonged solely and entirely to him, to Tony DiNozzo. He wanted to announce it, to shout it aloud. _Gibbs is mine!_ But they never revealed the nature of their relationship to the general public.

Not to people at work, either, with a few exceptions - Ducky, Abby, and McGee so far. Gibbs had confided in Ducky early on when it became obvious that he knew, and the other two had found out about Tony and Gibbs' relationship by mistake well over a year ago. Sharing a kiss in the underground parking lot after a particularly hard case was a mistake the lovers never repeated, no matter how bad it got. If others - co-workers, neighbors, family - suspected, they never said anything.

"You've been in a relationship for two years?" Senior looked his son over with grudging respect. "That's longer than either of my last two marriages lasted." He smiled, showing off his pricey dental work.

He'd never bested his father at anything before and it was a bit of a shock that the old man seemed to find it amusing. "It's going to last, Dad. We plan to make it work." Tony meant what he said and his conviction was reflected in his voice.

The strange thing was that Senior didn't follow up with any of the questions Tony expected him to ask. Not 'what's her name?' or 'do you live together?' or 'does she come from money?' or even 'is she hot?' Actually that last question would normally be his first one.

"Tell me something, Anthony," Senior began, the use of 'Anthony' indicating this was serious and he was acting the part of the father. "Because frankly I'm a bit puzzled. Do you still…bat for both sides?"

Luckily the traffic was at a standstill, and Tony's foot was placed firmly on the brake at that moment, otherwise they might have had a serious accident. His head whipped around and he stared at his father with an open mouth. "What?" Tony turned his head to stare at the car in front of them while his mind race around searching for a suitable reply.

"Well, I've known pretty much about your preference ever since you were sent down from boarding school. I only ask," Senior said, smoothing down his already perfect hair, "because I got the distinct impression that Agent Gibbs was marking his territory every time he questioned me, and that it was somehow about _you_." He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Last year, when I visited, Gibbs seemed to be taking a very personal interest in you. An interest that went far beyond a boss's normal concern for an employee. When he came to my hotel two nights ago, there it was again. A bit like a dog guarding his bone, if you don't mind me saying. He obviously cares about you and is…involved with you. Or have I got it all wrong?"

Tony swallowed hard and said with a slight quaver in his voice, "I'm, uh, I'm batting for the boy's team, Dad." He could hear Gibbs telling him to stop playing games with his father, to be truthful. Well, here it is, the truth, like it or not. Tony collected himself and said, without faltering, "To be honest, yes, it's Gibbs. I'm with Gibbs. He's with me. We're together." _Shit, that sounds like a song from the 70s._ "And he's the _only_ person I'm interested in, Dad. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to spend the rest of my life with him."

The traffic started moving again and Tony could only glance at his father, but he didn't see anything to even suggest the man was upset or being judgmental. Tony was having a hard time accepting that his father was taking this all in stride. The other shoe would surely drop any minute now.

They didn't speak until they were nearly at the airport exit, and then Senior said, "I'm happy for you, Anthony. And I think that maybe Agent Gibbs is the lucky one." Tony was at a loss for words, but before he could respond his father nodded at the airport terminals they were fast approaching and said, "I have a feeling, don't you, that this meeting with Trump is going to mark a turning point in the DiNozzo financial future?"

And just like that, the subject had changed, and Tony realized how relieved he was that it was out in the open and that he could stop sweating now. Without really thinking about it, or the possible consequences, or that Gibbs was going to kill him, Tony offered a laurel branch. "How about you think about coming for Thanksgiving, Dad? We can't put you up, but I'm sure you can stay at-"

"Funny you should suggest that because I was talking to a lady friend about visiting DC again, sometime soon. It just might be doable."

He sounded sincere but Tony wasn't quite buying it. Not yet, even though he was hopeful that things had taken a good turn. Every time he felt positive, Tony remembered the pain of being let down before - too many times to count. He said neutrally, "Door's open if you can make it." There, he was sounding more like Gibbs every day, a thought that pleased him almost as much as it amused him.

"You're still in that basement apartment in Bellevue?"

Now that was a good dose of reality. He hadn't lived at that location for eight years and had moved twice since. "No. I'll give you the address."

Tony parked the car and although he took his father's rolling suitcase out of the trunk, he left the bag sitting on the pavement in plain sight. He started walking towards the terminal building with his father following. Tony almost laughed when, after a dozen paces, the old man realized his son wasn't carrying his bag for him.

"Where's my luggage, Junior?" he asked, never taking his eyes off Tony.

_Nope, Dad, those days are over. Rule number eight: never assume._

"Next to the car." Tony made no move to retrieve his father's bag, although he found it very difficult to stay put; he'd been trained from an early age to jump…or else. The feelings he'd had earlier reappeared with a vengeance, anxiety and the compulsion to please his father, and warred with his common sense. In the past it had been all about the fear of what his father might do, but now it was more about the fear of his own knee-jerk reaction. Tony told himself that for once he wasn't going to give in. He had to get past this. With new resolve he suppressed the rising emotions that threatened to choke him. Instead of caving, Tony motioned in the direction of the bag sitting next to his car and said steadily, "I'll wait here."

Senior looked affronted but, after appraising his son for a long moment, he seemed to realize that the scales had tipped. He gave a small grunt and went back to pick up his bag. When he was once more by Tony's side, pulling his suitcase along by its handle, Senior stopped long enough to say, "You've grown up, son."

Tony offered his father a nod, understanding the significance of the moment. Then they were walking briskly side by side across the pedestrian flyway, into the terminal, and along the corridor towards the executive lounge. Tony used his badge to get them past security, and he was able to safely deliver his father to the President's Club Lounge well before Trump's private jet was scheduled to take off.

"Ah, there's Donald," Senior said, offering a smooth smile and a wave in the direction of Trump, who was by the bar talking with another man. "That's Heinrich Holdst. I hope we're traveling on a Gulfstream. You know what a jet whore I am," he said to Tony, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, Junior, it's been quite an experience, and I was impressed with the way NCIS handled the whole Royce affair. I'm glad we could have our little talk, too." A pat to Tony's shoulder somehow evolved into a proper hug good-bye.

Tony stopped his father before he could move away. "Dad, let me give you my current address." He scribbled on the back of his NCIS business card and stuck it in Senior's breast pocket. "Get me a copy of that photo you have in your wallet, will you? I'd really like to have one to frame."

DiNozzo, Sr., smiled, a genuine smile of pleasure that softened his features. "Of course, son. Tell Gibbs I enjoyed my little adventure. You take care of yourself." The concern in his eyes seemed to indicate that he now knew what a dangerous job being a federal agent could be, or that's the way Tony chose to interpret it. Then Senior turned and sauntered his way over to Trump, suave and genial, his demeanor exuding power and money he didn't really have. "Donald! Heinrich, great to see you again. We're traveling together!"

Tony watched his father for a few seconds and then headed back to his car, shaking his head. Some things never change.

***–***

"I told Dad I was gay. Well, he sort of seemed to know." Tony couldn't figure out how his father had known, not that it really mattered. Did he see right through him? Could he be that insightful? Maybe his dad was more like _him_ than either of them would admit. Now that was a scary thought.

Gibbs stared at Tony for a long moment, thinking _shit, he outed himself to his father_. "Tony, when I said you needed to have a truthful talk with your dad, I meant about the state of his affairs, his money situation." So Tony had been brave enough to tell his old man. Huh. That made one of them.

"I wouldn't tell anyone about us, Jethro. Not without talking to you first." Tony shrugged and played absently with a button on Gibbs' shirt. "Except he already seemed to know about you, too. About us."

Gibbs barked, "How the hell did he know?"

"Apparently you acted all alpha male when you interrogated him and he interpreted your concern for me as something more than you being the boss." Tony said teasingly, "He picked up that you were marking your territory, Jethro, and that it included claiming me as being yours. He really didn't seem to have any problem with it. Thank God our little heart-to-heart wasn't all _Torch Song Trilogy_ with Anne Bancroft playing the overbearing mother." Tony rolled his eyes. "Except I always admired Harvey Fierstein's character Arnold for saying, 'You want to be a part of my life, I'm not editing out the parts you don't like.' I was just never brave enough or had reason enough to live by it." Tony smiled wistfully at Gibbs. "I have enough reason now, though."

Gibbs enveloped his lover in a big hug. "You know I'm not real comfortable with telling anyone about us, Tony, but…it's okay with me that your old man knows." He couldn't imagine how he would even broach the subject with his own dad. The mere thought of how that particular scene might play out made Gibbs break out in a cold sweat. Not that he planned on doing it anytime soon. There was no need. He raised Tony's chin to look into his eyes. "Hey, there's only one person in the world who needs to know how much I love Tony DiNozzo, and he's right here in my arms."

Deeply touched, Tony cupped Jethro's face in both of his hands and gave him a sweet kiss of confirmation and love. "You know, for a man who doesn't say much, when you finally get around to speaking you seem to find all the right words, Jethro."

"Are we finished talking?" Gibbs asked hopefully.

Tony shifted so he was sitting next to Gibbs on the couch, shoulder to shoulder. "Dad said that all these years he'd thought I was bisexual, a switch hitter. He didn't seem to care, one way or the other. I guess being gay mattered more to me than it ever did to him." He turned his head and questioned, "Do you think I'm like my father?" At Gibbs' fierce look, Tony amended by saying hesitantly, "It struck me that maybe he's a bit like _me_."

It took a moment for Tony's meaning to sink in. "You think he's a switch hitter?"

Gibbs' voice had risen so high Tony laughed. "It would make sense. Like son, like father?"

"He's nothing like you, Tony. He could never _be_ anything like you," Gibbs said fiercely. "And I don't want to ever hear you say that again, understand?"

"Okay, I won't," Tony said, placating his lover by running his hand up and down his arm. "It's okay." Tony yawned and apologized. "I don't know why I'm so tired."

All the emotional ups and downs, thought Gibbs. He was worn out, too. "Bed. Now."

***–***

They were halfway up the stairs, Tony leaning heavily on Gibbs, when Gibbs asked with a frown, "If Ziva was in the penthouse bedroom, what was your father doing coming from the spa when I arrived?"

"He always takes a sauna after sex," Tony said with a slight shrug. Then he asked hopefully, "Can we install a hot tub out on the deck?"

Gibbs pushed Tony against the wall and kissed him thoroughly.

Once he was released Tony gasped for air. "I should take that as a no?"

"Bedroom."

Tony pulled his shirt over his head and asked, "Jethro, what if the woman he's coming to see is Ziva?"

"Tony," Gibbs growled in warning.

"I know, I know, but I'm asking because that would mean we'd have to invite Eli David to Thanksgiving dinner, too. And he'd bring his entourage and a hit team of Mossad agents and-"

That stopped Gibbs in his tracks. "Tony, please! _Please_. Stop."

Tony pressed his body into Gibbs', pushing him into their bedroom until the older man's knees hit the bed and they tumbled onto the soft mattress together. Tony shoved Gibbs' shirt up to expose his flat belly and proceeded to stick his tongue deep in his navel. "Mmmm. Please stop…this?"

"I will not have anyone else in our bed," Gibbs said with more than his usual gruffness.

"There's someone else in our bed? Oh. Oh, yeah, too much talking. Maybe you should do something about that…"

Gibbs laughed loudly. "That is one hell of a tall order, Tony, but I'll try. I will damn well try."

***–***end***–***

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